


One Moment

by Iolre



Series: You Can Be The Boss [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Domestic Violence, F/M, F/M/M, M/M, Murder, Other, Physical Abuse, Pre-Relationship, Verbal Abuse, eventual polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-07 23:08:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1917498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iolre/pseuds/Iolre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Who are you?” Molly asked quietly.</p>
<p>The one with the manic eyes merely smiled. “Yes or no?” was all he said, but it was enough.</p>
<p>Molly took a deep breath. “Yes,” she said softly. “Yes.”</p>
<p>The short man’s smile became cruel, and he looked at the taller man. “You know what to do, Seb.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Moment

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the rarepair bingo on tumblr. My prompt word was 'Cheek'.
> 
> My goal is to write most of my bingo prompts as standalone ficlets in this same universe. Also, the series name is prone to potentially being changed if I come up with a better idea.

Molly’s ears rang from the sound of the slap, and she raised a hand to her cheek, defensive. Her eyes were wide as she stared at her boyfriend, her heart thundering as she waited. Was he done? Was she free? Or would he hit her again?

“Get out of my sight,” he told her, contemptuous, as if she was worth nothing more than dirt on the bottom of his shoe. “You pathetic little bitch.”

Mutely Molly gathered her keys, her wallet - anything and everything she needed for work. Makeup, too, to hide the imprint that was surely going to form on her face. Normally Brian was good about avoiding her face, her wrists - any where that could be seen on a day to day basis. Lately, though - lately he didn’t seem to care, and the last thing she wanted was for Sherlock to read what was happening to her and deduce it for the whole world to hear.

Molly closed the door and locked it behind her, tucking the keys into her pocket. She could just leave everything behind and never come back. Leave Brian and his voice and his hands and the way he hit her and kicked her and - she could be free of all that. Somehow, the thought made her nauseous. She would lose everything. Toby was at home, and her cat deserved better than him. She wouldn’t put it past him to kill Toby to get back at her for leaving. Most days Molly couldn’t remember what had attracted her to Brian in the first place.

Then he would go soft and apologise with a look of such genuine remorse that she felt her heart swell and she hugged him and kissed him and knew that this time, he really was sorry. This time would be the time he wouldn’t hit her again, or call her names, and their life would be good. She ignored the voice in the back of her head that sneered at her, told her she was being ignorant. No, Molly told herself, trying to shut the voice out. He had really turned a corner and things would be better.

She couldn’t even muster the energy to laugh at herself. What a pathetic fool she was. Looking around for a cab and not seeing one she decided to walk to the morgue. The slight sprain she had gotten when Brian had pushed her over was nearly healed, and she could use the walk. It wouldn’t aggravate anything else. Most of what hurt was her middle. Molly couldn’t even look at herself in a mirror, not anymore. She was afraid of what she would see.

“He hurts you.” The quiet, nonchalant voice came out of nowhere. Molly froze. It wasn’t Sherlock, it couldn’t be Sherlock, but who else would know that? She didn’t tell anyone, and no one saw her and Brian together. No one. The voice didn’t sound like Sherlock. It was more laidback, more nonchalant. Nearly dismissive of what she went through.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she told the ground, wrapping her arms tighter around herself and checking to ensure that her mobile was in an easy to reach position.

“I could kill him for you,” the strange man offered, walking closer and stopping a step away. “Wouldn’t be that hard. You’d be free of him.”

Molly turned to look at him out of the corner of her eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she repeated, her voice shaking.

He sighed. “Shame.” His eyes met hers. They were normal eyes, like anyone else’s. Dark brown with tiny hints of green. But there was maliciousness lurking there, playfulness with a confidence and self-assuredness that Molly had never seen in anyone else. “We’ll meet again, I think.” He tucked his hands in his pockets and strolled off, whistling nonchalantly to himself.

Molly stood there on the street for a few moments, watching him leave and disappear into the darkness. Part of her wanted to run after him, to find out if he really meant it. She could be free, forever, no longer tied to Brian. The rest of her knew that that wasn’t the solution, it never was, and she was stronger than that. Swallowing thickly, she turned back towards the morgue and continued on. She had work to do. That, at least, she was good at.

-

Four days later, Molly sat in the corner of the cafeteria at Barts, eating her lunch, savouring every bite. She had come in with a black eye that she had been unable to cover completely in makeup and endured the staring of her coworkers. It had been easy to give the regular excuse - she was clumsy, after all - but her boss had responded by giving her the rest of the day off after lunch to go home and get some rest. Damn him.

She was able to drag her lunch out for nearly an hour, savouring each bite and taking long sips of water between each portion of her meal. At least she would be well hydrated, she thought, amused. Maybe she wouldn’t bruise quite as easily. Finally she had to throw away her bag, pack up her workstation, and head home. Maybe Brian wouldn’t be there, she told herself. Maybe she would be safe, just for a little bit longer.

As she slipped out the side door, she saw someone standing there, smoking a cigarette on the corner of the crossroads. She frowned at him for a moment. He was tall, over six foot, and well muscled, with brown hair and oddly piercing eyes. It took her a few seconds to realize who he reminded her of - the man from the street, who had threatened to kill her boyfriend. No. She had said no. Kind of.

Forcing herself to act nonchalant, she slipped a hand into the pocket of her jeans that held her mobile and started down the street. It was two blocks before she realized that the man was still behind her. Not directly, no, but he was about five meters behind, glancing around and looking anywhere but her. Maybe it was just a coincidence, Molly assured herself. Regardless, she found herself looking for a cab, uncomfortable out in public even in broad daylight.

She told herself it was the risk of being seen, the risk of Sherlock somehow stumbling across her and realizing her excuse was a lie. Still, as she slid into the taxi, she looked back to see the tall man wave at her, offer her a little smile. He had been following her, then. Stiffly, Molly turned her head towards the front and gave the cabbie her address. She wasn’t going to risk any weird things happening, or risk her reputation suffering.

It had nothing to do with her fear of saying ‘yes’ if the strange man appeared and made the same offer.

Freedom was such a precious thing, Molly mused during the ride home. She paid the cabbie with a smile and got out, staring up at her flat. The light was off, that was good. Maybe she would get some rest. Brian wasn’t home. She could go upstairs, go to sleep, and wake up before he returned and shouted at her for being lazy. Maybe he wouldn’t hit her, not since he beat her last night. She nodded firmly, confident. She would do that.

It was a matter of minutes before Molly was curled up on her bed, and within seconds she was fast asleep.

-

The door crashing open woke Molly out of a sound sleep and she pushed herself up, blinking to adjust her eyes to the darkness. She could hear Brian stomping around the flat, the odd cadence to his steps signaling that he was intoxicated and angry. Her heart sank. It was the worst possible combination. He was a belligerent drunk.

She tossed back the duvet and stood, trying to smooth out some of the wrinkles in her clothes so that she didn’t look like she had just woken up. Maybe he would believe a story that she had just gotten home from work, minutes before. Maybe. She could hope, couldn’t she? “In here,” she called, sitting on the edge of the bed. Carefully she smoothed out her hair and glanced in the small mirror hanging on the wall. She grimaced at her own image.

The door to the bedroom burst open and she turned to smile at him, pretended to be happy he was home. “Hello,” she said.

He turned to look at her, eyes narrowing. “What’re you doing here?”

“I got home from work a bit early.” Molly smoothed her shirt out nervously, trying to calm herself. “I just sat down, I swear.”

“I think you’re lying to me,” Brian said aggressively, stepping closer. “Are you, huh?”

“N-n-no, of course not - please, stop.” Molly bit back a whimper as Brian grabbed her shirt and yanked her closer. He reeked of booze, and the stench of alcohol made her dizzy. She stared at him, her heart pounding so quickly she could hear it. Would he listen?

He let go and for a second, she thought she would be okay. Then he slapped her across the face, sending her flying back onto the bed. She let out half a sob, clutching her cheek with her hand. All she could think of was that if she had said yes, she would not be here, wouldn’t be laying defenseless on the bed as she felt Brian’s hand tangle into her hair and start dragging her up.

“Stop.” The quiet, placid voice startled both of them, and the moment Brian’s grasp lessened on her hair, Molly ducked out from underneath him and around the bed. It was the same man from a few days ago, the same voice. Although he wasn’t the one holding onto Brian’s head. No, that was the man who followed her home.

“Who are you?” Molly asked quietly, watching Brian try and struggle out of the taller man’s grasp.

The shorter man, the one with the manic eyes, merely smiled. “Yes or no?” was all he said, but it was enough.

Molly took a deep breath. “Yes,” she said softly. “Yes.”

The short man’s smile became cruel, and he looked at the taller man. “You know what to do, Seb.”

“Yes, Boss,” the taller man replied, looking down at Brian as if he was a gnat under his shoe.

“It’s about to get messy,” the shorter man told Molly, tucking his hands in his pocket and strolling out of the room as if he didn’t care if she followed. She took one last look at Brian, one last look at Seb, and then followed.

“What happens next?” Molly asked, trying to sound brave as she followed the short man out of her flat and downstairs. “What now?” She knew she should be upset, should be distraught - should be _something_. She had just given the command to murder someone, after all. And she didn’t think that this ‘Boss’ gave orders he did not expect to be obeyed. Instead she felt - almost happy. Content. It scared her.

He turned to look at her, the corner of his lips curving up in a smile. “You’ll come home with us, of course.”

“Who are you?” Molly asked quietly.

“Jim,” he said simply, tilting his head and offering her a roguish grin. Jim was charming, in his way, and Molly could tell she was attracted to him despite the circumstances in which they had met. He stepped forward, a hand cupping her face, his thumb smoothing across the faint bruise on her cheek. “You’re mine, now,” Jim told her, as matter-of-fact as if he was talking about the weather. “You owe me.”

“Yes,” Molly whispered, Jim’s thumb brushing across her lips. She blushed, wanting to flinch away but unable to do so.

“Done.” Seb’s voice broke what had been developing between them. Jim looked unfazed, although Molly jumped and stared at her feet. “All cleaned up and everything.”

“Good.” Jim seemed to be inspecting him for blood. Finding nothing, he turned and strode off, leaving Seb and Molly behind.

Molly stared at Jim’s retreating form, confused, until Seb gently put a hand on her shoulder, nudging her forward. “Time to go home, little sparrow,” he told her, his voice warm and affectionate. Molly’s skin prickled underneath his touch and she shivered, but didn’t start forward.

Seb nudged her again, but she shook her head. “Toby,” she said miserably. Her cat. She wasn’t going to leave him behind.

“The cat?” Seb regarded her for a few seconds, seemingly amused, and held up a hand, signalling for her to stay. Then he turned and walked back towards her flat, breaking into a jog as he passed the entrance to the building. It was only a few minutes that he came out of the building with a cross look on his face, Toby clutched in his arms. “Take it.” He held the cat out to Molly, staring at it with a rather displeased expression.

It was only in the light of the street that Molly saw the scratches on his arms. “He doesn’t like to be grabbed,” she told Seb, gently taking Toby from the tall man’s arms. “Hello, you,” she murmured, holding the cat close as Toby butted her chin with his head.

“This is touching, but we can’t stand here all night,” Seb remarked, examining the scratches on his arm. “Your cat’s a bastard.”

“Maybe you’re the bastard,” Molly muttered, and then blushed, unsure of where she had gotten the courage to say such a thing. Seb let out a short laugh, taking it as the half-tease she had intended.

“Maybe you’re not the sparrow we thought you were.” Seb chuckled, and his eyes were kind. Molly decided he wasn’t too bad. Not nearly as scary as the other one, anyway. Even if Seb had just killed Brian.

Molly didn’t know what to say, so she didn’t say anything. Toby moved a bit in her arms, resting his head on her shoulder in order to glare balefully at Seb, his tail flicking, menacing. “Bite him next time,” Molly whispered.

“I heard that,” Seb said, nudging her forward with a hand on her Toby-free shoulder.

Molly offered him a shy smile. “So where are we going?” she asked Seb conversationally, scratching Toby behind his ears.

“Somewhere.” Seb walked next to her, his eyes alert and ever-moving.

Somewhere. Molly considered this, and found it oddly comforting. “Okay,” she said. It was scary, going somewhere new. Especially after what had happened. Molly was trusting her life and her future to these two men who had freed her from a bad situation. For all she knew, she was entering a worse one.

But for some reason, she trusted them - and for Molly, that was enough.


End file.
